How Many Light Bulbs Does It Take To Be Paris?

“We can be the Paris of South-east Asia.”

Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew, 23 August 2006.

Have you ever wondered; how many light bulbs it takes to be the Paris of the East? Whenever I hear attempts to remake Singapore into the Paris of the East, I begin to feel as if I have somehow strayed into an alternate universe where all about me I find people worshipping the light bulb craze. It’s not only Singapore who aspires to the mantle of “la Ville Lumiere” (The City of Lights). Half a dozen other cities all over the world are racing to do the same. Hong Kong is a forest of flaming skyscrapers which boast a computer controlled light show synchronized to Bach’s fifth movement. Shanghai is not to be outdone, boasting the largest wattage per square feet with it garish karaoke throbbing light display.

Do light bulbs alone maketh a Paris? No question about it – it goes long way to create “la atmosphere.” Light bulbs are useful things; I wouldn’t want to live without them, but I would never have thought of them as objects of veneration capable to even lending a patina of greatest to any city beyond the dictionary meaning of the word, “nice.” No it seems, there is much more to the city of lights than just light bulbs, wattage or how computers may play with shadows and different hues of colors.

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The Official Singaporean Earthquake Survival Manual

There is nothing like a good old earthquake to frazzle the nerves, huh? There I was sitting last Tuesday in the conference room somewhere in the CBD, with a few executives as we scrutinized like Talmudic scholars the details of the next quarter’s budget. Yes, the hard science of intercepting the future to create opportunities. If it sounds reminiscent of alchemy or rain dancing that’s because it is. Only it dressed up as something more serious, strategic planning. But don’t tell anyone just yet, it pays the bills. I even have a comfy cubicle with a sea view and job title that keeps me reasonably happy by pretending to be a very important know it all savant.

The earthquake wasn’t so much a jolt as it was a friendly head popping into the conference room with a quizzical look followed by, “Errh do you all feel the building swaying ah?” We looked at each other, then at the rattling windows and just before you could say, “Earthquake!” Everyone headed for the stairways, except me of course only because a two metric ton auntie was clutching on to me for dear life.

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